


Hole in my Heart

by MarshmallowBirb



Category: Bleach, 殺戮の天使 | Satsuriku no Tenshi (Video Game), 殺戮の天使 | Satsuriku no Tenshi | Angels of Death (Anime), 殺戮の天使 | Satsuriku no Tenshi | Angels of Death (Manga)
Genre: Age Difference, Crossover, F/M, Post-Canon, post-canon for both series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowBirb/pseuds/MarshmallowBirb
Summary: A crossover fic to celebrate the Bleach anime returning for its final season!When Ichigo gets roped into hunting down a serial killing hollow, he has to get help from a very creepy blonde Soul Reaper. Will they be able to catch him in time, or will the hollow hunt down Ichigo's family and friends?(Lots of spoilers for the final arc of Bleach, not that many spoilers for Angels of Death)
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Kurosaki Ichigo, Isaac "Zack" Foster/Rachel "Ray" Gardner
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I'm still alive! 
> 
> Bleach readers: Do you guys still exist? Hi! There's a pairing with a big age gap in this fic! If you don't like it, please don't read this fic! Thanks!
> 
> AoD readers: Shh, don't spoil anything for the Bleach readers in the comments lol

* * *

“Hey, brat, try ta keep up!”

The group of five black-clad shinigami zipped from dirty rooftop to dirty rooftop. It had been raining and the air was still damp, but it was hot and muggy. It was still only spring, but they were far south in Hong Kong, so it was warmer than it would have otherwise been. The smallest shinigami, a slight blonde with calm blue eyes and the only woman, trailed behind, sweating from the oppressive heat.

“Maaan, why d'we gotta carry that dead weight with us anyway?” one of the other four complained. “This’d go so much faster if we could ditch her. She's worthless.” It was said with a pant as the man wiped sweat from his greasy brow. The woman was silent as always.

“Dumbass safety precautions,” a third said. “If it wasn't for that, Fourth Division would never leave Soul Society.” His three companions apparently thought that was the funniest thing they'd heard all night and they all howled with laughter. But since they'd slowed, the healer stopped and looked out across the city from the rooftops. It was nostalgic and caused a small pang in her chest.

She still had slivers of her life before Soul Society. She had haunted dark alleyways, rain-soaked corners and abandoned buildings, even when she was alive. Once she died, instead of finding the rest her religion had promised, she saw her own corpse surrounded by flowers and its single mourner – then she was quickly shuffled off to Soul Society by an attentive shinigami. But she never forgot that man.

“Not like we're gonna get hurt enough to even need her.” The conversation continued on around her. “We should just send her back so she can treat some skinned knees or something.”

“Hey, chump!” the tallest one called, trying to suppress his laughter. She thought he was a seated officer; the rest were his flunkies. “Go back to Soul Society before you piss your hakama. Hollow huntin's no place for some little flower like you!”

Ray really did hate dealing with Eleventh Division. They tended to remind her of her father and most of them smelled like sweat and dirt. Bullies with meat for brains. But as the Seventeenth Seat lumbered over to tower over her, she felt as if she was staring leagues past him.

The smell of smoke reached her. Paradoxically, so did the smell of wet dirt and dirty bandages.

No. That couldn't be right. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

But the other three behind them had stopped laughing. In fact, there was only the sound of liquid dripping, like a slow, diseased rain. Then came the sound of bodies hitting the rooftops and a sickening gurgling. That, at least, was familiar. Comforting, even.

The seated officer had realized it too; his eyes narrowed and he reached for his zanpakuto, slung low on his hip. Ray knew it wouldn't clear its sheath.

“You can't beat him,” she said reflexively. “You should just run.” He bristled and puffed his chest.

“What the hell do you know, medic?!” he bellowed. “Eleventh Division doesn't just ru--" Of course he didn't finish that sentence. Ray watched passively as the last body fell to the wet concrete. Then she looked up at the hollow who'd shoved his whole curved hand through the Soul Reaper's chest.

He was twice her size, easily, and so black that he nearly caused a distortion of the light around him. And he was _hot_ , steam wafting from him in waves; his breath was a solid stream of white pouring from beneath his mask. The mask itself had fangs like daggers, nearly reaching his chest, and a long snout like a carnivore. There was a bushy tail swishing behind him, as well. And right where his heart would have been, Ray could see the skyline through his chest. Reflexively, she covered her own as she stared at him wide-eyed.

Altogether, he had the appearance of a giant, smoldering wolf hollow.

Ray didn't flinch. She simply stared as he stretched his nearly meter long claws towards her face. As his hand came to close around her face, her eyes drifted shut. A wave of relief washed over her.

But then she heard shouting behind her. The other shinigami had found them.

When she opened her eyes again, the hollow was gone. As the shinigami shouted, calling the other medics over and treating the newly killed in vain, Ray felt completely alone once more.

But for the first time in nearly thirty years, she felt something else: hope.

* * *

“For a regular hollow, this one sure is being difficult. I mean, twenty men, all from Eleventh Division, in the space of two weeks. And he only attacks in crowded cities. In all that time, only one survivor.”

“That's too bad.”

“And the only survivor was a little blonde shinigami from Fourth Division, smaller than me! She didn't even fight him, he was simply frightened away before he could finish her off.”

“Fascinating.”

“Ichigo, if I didn’t know better, I'd say you were uninterested in this case.”

The redhead looked up from his school notebook, casting a flat expression towards his old friend. He propped his chin onto his fist and let his disdain be known.

“I _am_ uninterested,” he confirmed. “I have mid-terms next week and I need to finish studying or I'm going to flunk this course. Come back after that.” The petite shinigami currently kicking her legs idly atop his bed simply smiled.

“Why don't you have Inoue-san help you study?” Rukia suggested, only half-serious. Ichigo bristled.

“Because she's not in school now,” he snapped. “University is optional, you know.”

“What about Ishida-san, then?” Ichigo felt his eye twitch.

“You can go through my entire high school yearbook, but none of them are in my classes now,” he replied. “Not that it matters, because that doesn't change the fact that you're trying to wheedle me into helping you with this and I don't have time.” Rukia’s smile brightened and that nearly made Ichigo feel ill. It was never going to be a good sign when Rukia smiled like that, especially given the current conversation.

“Oh, I'm not looking for your _help_ ,” she retorted. “The Captain Commander has specifically asked for you to take this case.” Ichigo groaned and slapped his pencil onto the desk.

“Dammit, it's just a stupid hollow!” Rukia simply kicked her feet in satisfaction.

“It is, but it also specifically stays in the human world.” She pointed out. “We can't send anyone more imposing without seriously affecting the spiritual balance right now; it still hasn't recovered from what the Sternritters did. It's all we could do just to keep Captain Kenpachi from storming down here to take matters into his own hands to avenge his men. The only way we cooled him down was by telling him we'd put _you_ on the case.”

And then Ichigo knew he was defeated. Kenpachi could rarely be reasoned with, and if that was the situation, he had better go ahead and get it over with.

“Alright, alright,” he huffed, ruffling his hair. “You win. Where do we begin?”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the beginning was with the sole survivor of the other encounter. She had been sequestered in Fourth Division since the encounter two weeks ago. According to Rukia, her name was Ray and she hadn't really spoken to anyone since.

“It isn't as if she doesn't respond,” she said, repeating the info she had been given. “She just won't talk about the encounter at all. Captain Kotetsu thinks she's traumatized, but says it's odd that she shows no other signs of it.” The pair had crossed the Senkaimon into Soul Society almost as soon as Rukia had announced that Ichigo would be helping out with this mission. As she filled him in, they walked down the corridors of Fourth Division's wards; Ichigo couldn't help but think that they were significantly less menacing under new management. Then again, he rarely had any reason to be there. He had his own healer, after all.

Finally, they reached their destination. As she hesitated before the door, Rukia gave Ichigo one last cautious glance.

“All that being the case,” Rukia said, “please try to be on your best behavior, alright? She might be a little… odd, but she's been through a lot. So try to be nice.” Ichigo snorted.

“I'm not _always_ a dick,” he protested weakly. It wasn't like he'd be cruel if she didn't give him any reason to be. But Rukia's sharp glance told him she disagreed. He rolled his eyes in return.

The room on the other side was relatively bright, with curtains drawn and windows open. Late afternoon sunlight slanted across the woman in the bed. Were she human, Ichigo would have thought she could pass for one of his classmates, no older than 22 or 23. She wore the clean white pajamas of the other patients, with straw blonde hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. Her face had a certain sweetness to it and her lidded blue eyes were focused on the sewing project in her hands. Judging by her complexion, hair, and eyes, she was probably American or British in life. But Rukia was right; as attractive as the girl was, even Ichigo could feel some sort of wrongness about her. And he had the spiritual sensitivity of a rock.

If he had been asked to design a girl from scratch whose name could sound like both “ghost" and “zero", Ichigo couldn't have done a better job than this.

As she poked the doll she was sewing with her needle, she stopped humming mid-note and turned to look at the intruders.

“We're sorry to interrupt, Gardner-san,” Rukia said, her tone sweeter than Ichigo was used to. “But I wanted to introduce you. Ichigo will be taking over that hollow’s case in the Human World.” Ichigo gave the girl a perfunctory half-bow. He didn't really expect an actual response.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” he said. “Nice to meet you.” The girl blinked at him and, to his surprise, responded in kind.

“Ray Gardner,” she replied dutifully. “Are you going to look for him?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “It got thrown at me to keep Kenpachi in Soul Society.” She simply nodded her understanding; Ichigo figured she'd probably had experiences with Eleventh Division similar to Hanatarou's.

“Alright.”

“So can you tell us--"

Rather than look at either of them, though, the blonde had begun packing her sewing box. She silently put away the small soft doll she'd been sewing – Ichigo thought it was supposed to be a boy in a brown jacket. Then, she slid her legs over the side of the bed and let her feet touch the floor.

“Alright,” she said softly, filling the void where he’d trailed off. “Can you step outside for a moment, please?” With that, she rose off the bed. Rukia was right – she was just as short as her. But just as Ichigo was about to protest, Rukia stopped him.

“Sure,” she said sweetly. “We'll be just outside the door. Call us when you're ready.”

“Well, that was a waste of a trip,” Ichigo huffed when they were safely on the other side. He stood across the hallway from Rukia and the door to the room, arms folded and leaning against the hallway wall. The smaller Soul Reaper shook her head.

“Captain Kotetsu said she was blunt like that,” Rukia replied. “Besides, even if she's a Soul Reaper, she's still a girl. She probably didn't want some strange man in her room while she's in her pajamas.” Ichigo bristled, hackles rising like a great orange cat.

“Says the girl who lived in my closet once for three months?” he scoffed. “Anyway, she's way stranger than I'll ever be.” Rukia shook her head.

“Be kind, Ichigo,” she nearly scolded. “I can't say I knew her before this happened, but from what Kiyone-senpai and Captain Kotetsu have said, she's always been quiet. Likes to keep to herself.”

“I've never seen a ghost that looks _dead_ like that before.” Rukia cocked her head to the side.

“Of course you have,” she replied plainly. “You've seen spirits mangled by car accidents and impaled by steel beams.” Ichigo shook his head. Maybe Rukia was more used to attitudes like that. Maybe it was the result of trauma that shinigami had to endure, seeing death day in and day out. Ichigo would know.

“It's her eyes,” Ichigo explained. “Dead, creepy eyes.”

“I get that a lot.”

The blonde had emerged from her room, silent as the grave. Rukia had even startled upon hearing her voice; the door had made no noise as it opened and Ichigo thought Rukia might have just realized what he had been talking about. Either way, she was now fully dressed in her black shihakushou, complete with a little Fourth Division bag slung across her shoulder.

“Err, anyway, Gardner-san!” Rukia recovered with a small clap. “We'd like to talk with you about your encounter with the hollow. Can we go back in now?” Ray shook her head, closing the door behind her.

“No need,” she said. “I'll come with you instead.” Rukia smiled awkwardly, holding her hands palm-out.

“Th-That's not really necessary,” she stammered. The blonde's expression didn't change.

“I want to,” came the simple answer. “Besides, I know that hollow.”

“What?!”

Ray looked from one to the other of them, but when no other explanation was forthcoming, Ichigo filled the awkward silence.

“You mean you've encountered it before,” he helpfully supplied. Ray shook her head.

“No, I knew him in life.”

“That's -- That's a good reason for you _not_ to go with us!” Rukia exclaimed. Even Ichigo knew that; Rukia had yelled at him about it enough. ‘Killing in one blow from behind is the essence of hollow hunting' – it was a liability to know the hollow's true identity. It caused hesitation and other simple mistakes.

“No,” Ray said quietly. “I know the reason the other Soul Reapers couldn't kill him. If you try, he'll kill you, too.”

“Then tell us what the deal is and we'll handle it,” Ichigo said. “There's no reason to put yourself in harm’s way over this.” Those dead blue eyes of hers turned steely, but Ichigo was no pushover. There was no way Ichigo was going to let her tag along. She could give them the info and then stay safe in Soul Society – and out of their way. Instead, she started walking back the way they'd come.

“I don't mind,” Ray answered. “After all, he's the man who killed me.”

* * *

“A serial killer?”

The sun was going down, painting Karakura-cho in bloody reds and oranges. The trio had emerged near the riverbank and were walking along it as they spoke. Ray's eyes remained as expressionless as ever, even when she was describing her killer. Ichigo couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine when he looked at her face for too long.

“More like a psycho killer,” she replied. “His name was Isaac Foster. I think I was his last victim.” Rukia seemed to be strategizing as she listened.

“So he died not too long after killing you,” she thought out loud. “You know, we do have some experience with this.” That was probably the most emotion Ichigo had seen Ray show yet – mild surprise. But Ichigo immediately recalled what she meant.

“With… killers?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo confirmed. “We dealt with one a while back. Pretty tough customer for a regular hollow.” Rukia's eyebrows pinched together as she also remembered Shrieker.

“What a strange case,” she recalled. “He trapped the soul of a young boy inside a parakeet. The boy eventually found his way to Soul Society, but Shrieker…” Ichigo nodded and finished her thought.

“He got dragged to Hell.”

After a few more paces, they realized Ray had stopped following.

“What’s wrong?”

Something had changed about her expression, but the light was growing fainter. Ichigo could have sworn there was some dim color illuminated in Ray's eyes, but it must have just been due to the sunset. Still, she was clearly disturbed about something.

“To Hell?” she whispered. “There is a… There really is a Hell?” Ichigo was taken aback by her sudden intensity as she stepped forward, but Rukia seemed unfazed.

“Do you not remember from the Academy?” she asked. “It's one of the five realms.” That didn't seem to calm her at all.

“You really shouldn’t worry about it,” Ichigo volunteered. “Only truly evil people get taken there.” Her expression didn't waver.

“Like serial killers,” Ray confirmed. Rukia cast Ichigo a look he couldn't read, but he continued anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “If this Foster is as bad as you say he is, he'll get dragged down as soon as we finish him off.” Rukia seemed a bit hesitant but finished Ichigo's thought anyway.

“That's right,” she said. “He'll be permanently removed from the cycle of rebirth. Hell doesn't let its prisoners go - ever. So you'll never have to worry about him again.” After another moment of awkward silence, Ray nodded and began walking towards them again.

“I see,” was all she said. It was odd, but Ichigo couldn't put the pieces together just yet. Maybe when he had a chance to speak to Rukia without this girl around, they'd be able to figure it out.

“Anyway,” Rukia said finally. “We'll work out our strategy once we get to Ichigo's place.” The girl pulled even with them and they carried on their way.

* * *

The trip to Ichigo's house wasn't long. Rukia and Ray hadn't assumed gigai yet and Ichigo had left his body on his bed in his room. As they passed through the kitchen at the foot of the stairs, Ichigo noticed that his sisters were getting ready for dinner. More accurately, the blonde, Yuzu, was cheerfully cooking. Her black-haired twin, Karin, sat at the kitchen table doing her homework. He saw Ray cast them a look, but say nothing.

When they reached his room, however, she spoke up.

“Are they your friends?” she asked.

“Sisters,” Ichigo supplied, flopping into his desk chair. His body still laid on the bed, covers over his face. Ray didn't sit, but Rukia hopped right onto his legs. At least the weird girl had the courtesy to not mess up his bed.

“Keep the blonde one inside,” she said cryptically. Ichigo raised his eyebrow.

“Foster…?” he asked. Ray met his eyes and that same creepy feeling washed over him again.

“His preference is for blondes,” she said. It seemed true on its face; Ray was blonde, it made sense. But something about it struck Ichigo as strange. Since when was a serial killer's victim so self-aware? And why did her voice sound so cold when she said it?

“So what you're saying is, we can draw him out with the right victim?” Ichigo asked directly. Ray nodded.

“It's possible,” she answered thoughtfully. “I saw him in Hong Kong. Then I heard he was in Busan. Then Kyoto. This place has really strong spiritual energy. I wouldn't be surprised if he comes here soon.” Rukia also seemed to be giving it some deep thought.

“Karakura-cho is a spiritual hot spot,” she provided. “If he's in East Asia, he'll eventually make his way here. Gardner-san, do you think…” Ichigo suspected he was thinking the same as Rukia.

“He might come out for you,” he interjected. Both women looked at him and seemed to see the sense in it.

“That's why I wanted to come,” Ray replied. “I figured he would come if I provided the bait."

“He _did_ already kill you once,” Rukia said thoughtfully. Ray nodded.

“We just have to find a place he'll –“

“Ku~ro~sa~ki~saaaan~! Would you like some breaaaad~? I'll make it cheaaaaap~!”

Simultaneously, all three expressions changed. Rukia gained a devilish smile, Ray winced, and Ichigo felt as though he'd been blasted in the face with a hair dryer. Why’d she have to show up now, of all times?

Of course, Ichigo knew why. Orihime's shift at the bakery had ended for the night and she was using her “reject bread” as an excuse to stop by. Not that he minded; generally, he enjoyed when Orihime visited. They talked manga and the bread really was quite good (although he'd never outright admit it). But tonight was obviously a bad time.

“Crap,” he grumbled. Rukia's grin spread across her face.

“Another sister?” Ray asked. She seemed slightly interested. Ichigo couldn't fathom why.

“No, a friend,” he quickly corrected.

“A _friend_ , hmm?” Rukia asked, her tone obvious that there was an extra meaning there. Ray didn't seem to pick up on it.

“Shut up, Rukia,” Ichigo grunted, rising from his desk chair. He moved to the window and stuck his head out, not bothering to get back into his body. “Yo, Inoue! Cut it out – the neighbors'll get the wrong idea!”

The baker was underneath his window, holding a tray of bread, as she usually did during this time of day. Orihime favored him with a big smile, her voice nearly a song as she called up.

“Did I hear that Rukia-san is here?” she asked happily. “I have bread for her, too! Rukia-saaaaan~!” Ichigo sighed, but Rukia bounded over to the window to wave down at her friend.

“Inoue-san, hi!” she called. “Come on up!” Ichigo nearly choked.

“No, don't!” he protested. “Inoue, you need to go home! I'll fill you in later, alright?” Her expression grew confused, but the blonde behind them spoke up.

“No, invite her up,” she said quietly. “I want to meet her.” Color rose to Ichigo's face.

“Look, this isn't a social call!” But Orihime had already disappeared inside the house. The blonde, however, seemed stoic as ever.

“We can use her,” she said. Both Ichigo and Rukia stood silent.

“What do you m--"

“Absolutely _not_!”

“She's perfect.”

None of the shinigami ever listened to Ichigo. It was like yelling at deaf people.

“Perfect for _what_?!” he squawked. “No, y'know what, never mind! It doesn't matter. You're not wrapping Inoue up with a serial killer!” But Ray's expression stayed as flat as it had been.

“Foster _hates_ cheerful people,” Ray provided. “He wouldn't be able to resist killing someone like that, _or_ your sister downstairs.” Rukia also looked thoughtful, and that was never a good sign.

“No one is more cheerful than Inoue-san,” Rukia thought out loud. Ichigo puffed up, trying not to let his temper get the better of him. The situation was quickly getting out of control.

“He would come back from the dead just to kill that girl,” Ray affirmed.

“And that's why she's dropping the bread off and I'm walking her home,” Ichigo said firmly.

“Eh? You are?”

Damn, she was already there.

Orihime was at his elbow, tray of bread between her hands. Before he could blink, Rukia had already ran over to greet her.

“Inoue-san, nice to see you again!”

“Oh, Rukia-san! I hadn't realized you were back in town! Are you here for business? Where's Abarai-kun? How is the wedding planning going?” This was apparently the golden ticket, because all premises of stopping any serial killing hollows were thrown out the window for girly gossip. Ichigo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, flopping back in his desk chair. Passing his mid-terms was only a fleeting dream now. His only consolation was that Ray seemed as bewildered as he was. But quite soon the topic turned back to the nature of Rukia's trip.

“We're actually here to look for a dangerous hollow,” Rukia mentioned. “You haven't noticed anything odd lately, have you?” Orihime shook her head.

“Well, one of the neighbor's cats had kittens and at least one of them looks like Bob Sapp,” the brunette replied thoughtfully. “But other than that, not really.” Then she looked past Rukia for the first time and noticed the blonde shinigami attempting to blend into the bedroom wall. “Oh, hello!”

“Er, hello…”

“I'm Inoue Orihime,” she said with a small curtsy and a dip of her skirts. “Pleased to meet you!”

“R-Ray…” the blonde replied. “You can see us.” Orihime looked puzzled.

“Why would I not?”

“Inoue is spiritually sensitive,” Ichigo supplied. “My younger sister probably saw you, too.” Ray's surprise didn't last long.

“Ah,” she pressed on. “Then you _can_ help us.” Ichigo sputtered.

“That's not what I meant!”

“Inoue-san, you might be interested in this case,” Rukia carried on, ignoring Ichigo. She went to the closet, pulled out the cushion that Orihime usually used when she was in Ichigo's room, and handed it to her; soon she was back in her place on his bed while Orihime sat cross-legged on the floor. “This hollow was a serial killer in life.”

“Haaaaaah?! Scary!” But then after thinking about it for a moment, a big smile covered Orihime's face. “But that's kind of cool, though!” she finally chirped. Ichigo was completely unsurprised, but Rukia seemed bewildered. Ray was unmoved.

“C… Cool?”

“Yeah!” Orihime continued. “Did you know there are whole YouTube shows about famous killers? And podcasts, too! They have lots of fans!” Something about this seemed to stir an emotion in Ray, but Ichigo was hard-pressed to say what.

“Fans?” she asked. The sound of her voice nearly sucked all the warmth from the room, but Orihime seemed not to notice. Instead, she favored her with a sunny smile.

“Uhn! I don't think they'd actually want to meet them in real life or anything,” she quickly amended. “But their stories are so strange and tragic, it's hard to _not_ be interested!” The chill in the room seemed to dissipate almost instantly. Then, Rukia's face lit up.

“Say, Inoue-san,” Rukia said, finger on her chin. “Have any of those shows mentioned a serial killer named Isaac Foster?” Ray’s eyebrows rose; it was probably the most animated Ichigo had seen her become yet. Orihime looked thoughtful for a second before a look of recognition dawned across her face.

“That's… the Back-Alley Murderer, right?” she replied, as though she was answering a question in class.

_Of course Inoue would know that_ , Ichigo thought, groaning inwardly. However, Rukia didn't answer her; Ray did.

“Yes, that's him,” the blonde replied evenly. “He was American and probably died around 1993 or 94.” Orihime nodded eagerly.

“Uhn, I remember that episode!” she chirped. Then, looking up at the ceiling, she continued. “They said he escaped from all sorts of things – an illegal orphanage, a burning building, death row. But in the end, he went back and attacked a police station head-on and that's how he died.” Even Ichigo had to admit that he was intrigued.

“Why would he do that?” he asked, interested despite himself. “It doesn't make any sense.” It was contradictory; why would a serial killer that had already escaped death row go _back_ to a police station?

“The hosts said there were a couple theories,” Orihime provided, turning to look at Ichigo. “Like that he wanted to die, so he provoked the police to shoot him. Or that they had wronged him in the past and he was out for revenge. There's not much information about him, so no one knows for sure.”

“Gardner-san,” Rukia asked, turning to the blonde. “Do you have any ideas about that?” She shook her head in response.

“None,” she said quietly. “That was after my time.” Orihime looked curious for a moment, but Ichigo went ahead with the conversation.

“It's probably not important anyway,” he said. “We just have to lure him out, right? We already know how to do that.” Ray seemed more than comfortable to discuss that.

“Right,” she confirmed. “Like the name ‘Back-Alley Murderer' says, he sticks to dark alleys.” The three others were attentive, so she continued. “He used to hunt mainly around bars and run-down areas. So if you have any seedy parts of town, that's where he'll be.”

“I don't really hang out in places like that,” Ichigo plainly pointed out. “I'm still a student.” Orihime blinked in his general direction.

“You're old enough to drink now,” she offered, as though he'd forgotten. Not that he'd have time, what with his classes.

“What, do _you_ go out drinking, Inoue?” Just the idea nearly made Ichigo choke. Orihime was the last person who needed to be alone in a bar. Fortunately, she just laughed and shook her head.

“Only if my co-workers want to go after work,” she said cheerfully. “Most of the time I'm too busy, though!” It was less than comforting, honestly, but Ichigo let it slide.

“Oh!” Rukia piped up. “We do that in Soul Society, too! But that means you know a few places like that here!” Orihime nodded enthusiastically.

“Uhn!” she chimed. “I can show you!”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo, Rukia, and Orihime manage to draw the serial killer hollow out of hiding. But what secret has Ray been hiding, and will it get them all killed?

* * *

Around an hour later, they had dropped by Orihime's place for her to get changed, then found themselves outside one of Karakura's downtown bars. Rukia and Ray hadn't even had to say anything to convince her to play along with their plans. Orihime had done her part happily and dressed as though she was going out for a night on the town: heels, short skirt, cute purse, and make up. And Ichigo was relatively sure he hated every bit of it.

To begin with, she was the only one in her physical body. The other three were still in spirit form and therefore invisible to the rest of the crowd. A very pretty single girl with Orihime's… assets, out visiting clubs and bars by herself, in the bad part of town, had already attracted too much unwanted attention for Ichigo's tastes. But after the third sleazy guy had excused himself because of a sudden pain in his shins (where Ichigo had kicked him, of course), he decided to speak up.

“Inoue, you're drawing too much attention,” he grumbled. Orihime simply looked confused.

“But I thought we wanted that?” she asked innocently. “He'll notice us this way, right?” Ray shook her head.

“No,” she said softly. “He wouldn't want to draw _that_ much attention. You need to find an alley or a dark place where we can hide to wait.” Orihime seemed to understand and clutched the strap to her purse in determination.

“Uhn!” she said with a big smile. “Just leave it to me!”

As they passed under a streetlight, leaving the crowds behind, they approached a dark shipping yard. The four of them continued chatting.

“So he doesn't like bright places,” Orihime thought out loud. “Didn't he have some scars? I think I remember that he was supposed to have looked pretty bad… Maybe he didn't want people looking at him?” Ichigo and Rukia exchanged a look; leave it to Orihime to serve some absolutely brutal insults without even realizing it.

“Err, Inoue-san,” Rukia said with an awkward smile. “He probably had worse problems than being ugly.”

“He wasn't ugly,” Ray corrected them firmly. “Not at all. He did have scars, but that didn't make him ugly. But he didn't like most people in general, _especially_ happy people.” Ichigo cast a glance over to Ray. She normally seemed to be quiet and withdrawn, but something about her tone struck him as odd, almost… nostalgic? Ichigo shook his head. He didn't really understand emotional things like that very well, but he also had never been killed by a serial killer. He let it go.

By this point, they had reached the darkened yard, full of shipping trailers and sleeping trucks. Either side of the fenced-off yard had deep, black alleys trailing far out of sight. It would've been perfect for their purposes and the three women seemed to have realized it as well.

“So I just walk through here…?” Orihime asked, poking her head into the alleyway on the far side of the yard.

“Yes,” Ray replied. “Act happy. We'll hide back here.” And with that, she tugged both Ichigo and Rukia's sleeves and pulled them along to the darkened pallet of boards stacked at the corner of the yard. As she tucked them into their hiding spots, Ichigo couldn't help but be impressed at just how clever Ray was with finding places to hide. Maybe she'd just run into a spot of bad luck when Foster killed her.

“You're pretty good at this,” he whispered. The morbid curiosity was getting on his nerves by this point, so he figured he might as well comment on it. “Kinda surprised Foster managed to kill you.”

“He's good at what he does,” Ray remarked simply. Well, if she didn't want to talk about it, Ichigo wouldn't press her. Besides, they weren't there to chit-chat. Although as the silence settled on them, he could hear Orihime singing cheerily from the alley.

“Do, a do, a do-rae-mon!” she chirped, easily imitating a drunk. “Ray, a ghost named Rei!” If Ichigo didn't know her, he would have thought she was three sheets to the wind. But no – that was just Orihime. “Mi, a look, a looky-look~”

“Is she always like that?” Ray asked, her expression betraying nothing. Both Ichigo and Rukia shrugged in unison.

“For as long as I've known her,” Ichigo replied. Rukia nodded.

“You get used to it,” Rukia affirmed. Ray looked doubtful.

Before the conversation could continue, though, a blast of infernal heat washed over the area. The intense and suffocating aura of a hollow had appeared. An overwhelming smell, like that of a decrepit old house burning, reached Ichigo's nose from the next alley over. He nearly retched. He'd fought plenty of hollows, but none reeked quite like this one.

“He's here,” Ray whispered. Her voice trembled ever so slightly and Ichigo turned to look at her. Her expression hadn't changed at all; in fact, she was as calm and focused as ever. But they could hear _him_ clearly from the alley – a shrieking, piercing laughter that nearly made Ichigo's ears ring.

_“Hiiiiiyaaaaaa hahahaha!”_

He very nearly sprung from his hiding place, but Rukia stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. She shook her head when he looked at her.

“Wait until Inoue-san brings him closer,” she whispered. Ichigo knew Orihime could handle any of the hollows that popped into Karakura-cho. She'd been doing it since she was fifteen. He still didn't like it.

_“I'll give ya ‘til the count of three to run! Hope you can move in those heels, lady! Onnnnnne~!”_

“He won't chase her until the count of three,” Ray informed them. “But he's very fast.”

_“Twoooooo~”_

“I'm faster,” Ichigo growled. Ray shook her head.

“But is she?”

At that moment, Orihime ran past their pallet, heels in her hands. She was nowhere near as fast as Ichigo, but she had her shields if things went south.

_“Threeeeee~! Ready or not, here I come~!”_

The unhinged laughter was louder than before, moving closer at such a fast rate that even Ichigo was surprised. There was another sound, something that was very close to the noise of a heavy sword scraping across the wet concrete of the alleyway. As he entered the yard, Ichigo could hear his incredibly heavy footsteps; if the yard wasn't already packed earth, he was sure it would've cracked. Even as the contents of the pallets shook, the creature came into view.

He was huge, one of the largest hollows Ichigo had ever seen outside of the Menos Grande. Covered in thick, shaggy, black hair, and loose, filthy bandages, Ichigo couldn't help but be reminded of a mangy wolfman dressed up like a mummy. If that was all, he would have been frightening enough. But this hollow was so hot that Ichigo could feel the heat pouring off of him as though he was on fire. Whatever part of him was burning wasn't visible, but the smoke and steam wafting off of him was. And paradoxically, he still also smelled like wet dirt.

As Ichigo caught sight of his hands, he realized what was being drug along the ground: it was his left hand. The claws of his right hand were all wicked and long, each nearly the length of his forearm. But the left hand’s fingers were fused together, forming what looked like a large scythe. He raised it above his head, wheezing with laughter at Orihime, who had turned further down the path to face him.

_“Are ya brave or just stupid, lady?”_ he asked. _“At least have the good sense to be afraid!”_ Ichigo could nearly see her face in his mind; he was sure she had that determined look, where her brows pinched and her bottom lip stiffened. But in another moment, Foster had passed them, his back clearly visible.

“Now,” Rukia whispered, springing from their hiding place with Ichigo following close behind.

He'd pulled Zangetsu from his back before Rukia could clear her sheath – and it was for the better. The large cleaver blocked that nasty scythe with a ringing ‘CLANG', connecting just in time to keep Ichigo's head from being split open like a melon. As he stared down the smoldering hollow, he could see burning red eyes behind the sneering mask; even with the layer of bone, he could tell the creature was angry at being denied his prey.

_“Soul Reapers are puttin’ out bait now?”_ he asked, clearly amused. _“Kinda sleazy. What if I killed yer happy little human friend, huh?”_ It _was_ pretty low, in Ichigo's opinion. But he'd been overruled.

“Not my idea,” he retorted. “But maybe you shouldn't have been so easy to bait!” He managed to push the hollow back a few paces with his sword, just in time for Rukia to bring hers down from behind. She only managed to shave off a few shanks of shaggy black hair, as he dodged to the right just in the nick of time. Ray was right – he was freakishly fast, as well as strong.

_“Hiyahaha!”_ the hollow chortled. _“Two on one? I've had worse odds!”_ Ichigo felt his hackles rise, but Rukia quickly piped up.

“Soul Reapers don't have to fight fair, Foster,” she said, running a hand along her blade. “Now – _Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!”_ The sword turned white, just as if a sudden frost had hit it, and a white ribbon trailed from the hilt. The hollow seemed a bit surprised for a moment before chortling.

_“You know my name, huh?”_ he laughed. He seemed not to notice the pool of white light forming at his feet. The airy sound of chimes floated on the wind as Rukia stared him down.

“Gardner-san told us everything about you,” she replied. The hollow went completely still for a moment before laying his ears back against his head and raising his snout to the air. Upon finding the scent he was looking for, he charged Rukia, nearly breaking her concentration.

_“RAY?! WHERE'S RAY?!”_

_“Some no Mae! Tsukishiro!”_

The hollow froze in mid-air, stuck in the pillar of sub-zero white light Rukia's zanpakuto had formed. His scythe was stretched towards her, inches from her face, but Rukia didn't flinch. Instead, she stared him down defiantly. Ichigo could see he was still struggling to move, but the shikai had him stuck tight.

“You'll never kill again, Foster,” she said confidently. “Ichigo, you do the honors.” But before Ichigo could lift his sword, he heard a voice coming from the direction that Orihime had ran.

“Gardner-san, Gardner-san, why does that name sound so familiar?” That was the voice of an overly-forgetful person who was about to deliver some terrible news. Suddenly, Ichigo had the overwhelming instinct to check their earlier hiding spot.

“Inoue?” he said tersely, seeing that Ray was now nowhere to be found. “If you've got some critical info, now would be a good time to share it…!” As he looked down the row and saw the look of horror on Orihime's face, his stomach dropped.

“I just remembered!” the brunette yelled, causing both Soul Reapers to look her way. “Rachel Gardner! She was Isaac Foster's accomplice!”

_“Bind, Kinhari. Shiroi ito.”_

White pinpricks appeared all along Ichigo's arms, accompanied by the sharp sting of a needle. Then, they were snapped together; a shimmering web of white thread had sewn his limbs still. Looking at his companions, he could see that Rukia was in a similar state; her _Tsukishiro_ flickered and faded, dropping Foster unceremoniously to the ground along with her zanpakuto. Orihime seemed unaffected. After thinking for a moment, he could only come to two conclusions: either Ray thought she wasn't a threat, or she intended to let Foster chase her down.

“Inoue, run!”

For once, she did as she was told and ducked behind one of the construction vehicles. Luckily, the hollow still seemed too dazed to run after her. Instead, Ichigo watched in frustration as the little Fourth Division shinigami stepped from her hiding place behind a second, more distant set of pallets, glowing sewing needle in hand. She acknowledged Ichigo with a cold glance and for the first time all of his odd feelings about her made sense; she gave him the creeps _because she was a hardened criminal._ At the very least, she had aided and abetted a serial killer. Of course she'd be creepy.

_“Ray…”_

The hollow scrambled to his haunches and then launched himself at the blonde. Knowing hollows, Ichigo half expected to watch the petite shinigami get disemboweled; instead, he gathered the girl to his chest in a tight hug.

“Zack,” she said softly into his black fur. “You always kill everyone _but_ me.” Ichigo had no idea what _that_ was supposed to mean, but had the rather unsettling thought that this might be what passed for a romantic reunion between these two. To further that impression, Foster scooped the girl up and cradled her in his arms.

_“I'm sorry, Ray,”_ he said. It was probably the most earnest Ichigo had ever heard a hollow sound. _“But I took out the bastards that killed you! Ray, you should've seen the look on the pigs' faces when I showed up at their precinct!”_ For the first time since Ichigo had met her, the blonde _smiled_. It made him feel like ants were crawling over his skin. Then she leaned in and gave the hollow a small kiss, right on the side of his mask and Ichigo thought he would be sick instead.

“Hey,” he interjected. “I hate to break up this touching reunion, but you need to get away from him. Whatever he used to be, he's not the man you remember, Gardner.” The gaze Ray shot him just then would've made a lesser man piss his pants, but Ichigo stood firm.

“Ichigo is right,” Rukia said sternly. “The most delicious soul a hollow can eat is that of a loved one.” The look she cast them just then was inscrutable.

“Good.”

“Good?!”

Both Ichigo and Rukia sputtered in unison. The blonde rested against the monster's chest, leaning into him as he supported her weight. She closed her eyes, just as though she was going to sleep on a pile of pillows.

_“Ray didn't tell you this, so I will,”_ he said triumphantly. _“But we agreed a long time ago - I'm the only one allowed to kill her!”_ Ray nodded and then addressed the group again.

“Zack didn't actually get to kill me,” she explained, stroking the side of his mask. “A convenience store clerk recognized him and called the cops - they shot me on accident. So it's only right if he gets to eat me after all.” It took Ichigo a few moments to process what he'd just heard. Then the gravity of what she'd said settled on him.

“That's literally insane!” he yelled.

“Gardner-san, you can't be serious,” Rukia picked up his train of thought. “If he eats you, your soul will cease to exist! You get it, right!? You won't be reborn, in Soul Society or anywhere else!” Ray simply closed her eyes again and snuggled in closer to the stinking monster's neck.

“I don't care,” she replied simply.

_“You guys are the ones that don't get it!”_ he screamed, nearly laughing again. _“Ray's mine! When I eat her, she'll become part of me! We'll never be apart again! You don't get it!”_ Then he did what Ichigo had been dreading seeing him do the entire time: he bent his head over Ray and seized her neck between the bone jaws of his hollow mask. As he pulled away, taking a chunk of her trapezius muscle with him, Ray actually screamed. Ichigo couldn't help but be a bit surprised; he nearly expected her to take it happily.

“Z-Zack!” she cried. “No, not… not now! I wanted to… to stay with you longer…!” This set him off, causing him to pick the girl up with his right hand and hold her out to look at. He shook her hard; Ichigo thought she might pass out from it, but somehow she seemed to still be alert. Even as he shook her by the collar, she wrapped her tiny hands around his wrist, clearly trying to soothe him.

_“You promised, Ray!”_ he shrieked her betrayal. _“Are you breaking our oath?! Liar! You know how much I hate liars!”_ He continued on like that, raving about their “oath", whatever it was, and shaking the little shinigami fiercely. But as he watched, Ichigo realized that he could move his hands again. Looking down, he half expected Ray's zanpakuto to have failed; instead, it was Orihime’s black-clad fairy, Tsubaki, snapping the white threads binding his arms together. The little spiky-haired elf looked up from behind his scarf and glared at Ichigo.

“Hold still, stupid,” the fairy snapped. “I'll have you out in a second.” True to his word, the attack fairy broke the last thread and Ichigo's arms came apart. He rubbed them gingerly, trying to dispel the lingering pinpricks from having been sewn together. As soon as the feeling came back to his arms, he reached down to pick up his zanpakuto. Ichigo turned his head in time to see Rukia's threads being snapped loose as well. But just as he looked over towards Foster, he saw that Ray was missing. A quick glance back the way they'd came showed him where she was; Orihime had snatched the blonde away from the hollow.

Even without her incantation, Orihime almost immediately had Ray inside of her glowing healing shield. The blonde was clearly confused, watching as her wounds closed and the blood disappeared.

“I hope you don't mind, Gardner-san,” Orihime said solemnly. “But we can't have you helping him anymore.” In her confusion, Ray laid her hand on the yellow, glowing dome, only to realize that it repelled her; she was trapped inside.

“No, you have to let me out,” she pleaded. “They'll send him to Hell!” While Ichigo squared his shoulders to face off against the hollow, he was already lunging in Orihime's direction.

_“You little bitch!”_ he roared. _“Give her back! Ray! Get back here!”_ He lunged towards Orihime's back, but before his scythe could make contact, a shining yellow triangle sprung to life between them. Orihime could cast her shields almost instinctively now.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “But could you hold off for a moment while I talk to your accomplice?”

_“You happy little shit! I'll kill you first!”_ The scythe made a terrible noise as it banged into Orihime’s _Santen Kesshun_ over and over, but she turned to face Ray with a smile. Ichigo sighed and swung Zangetsu towards the hollow; at least it distracted him from pointlessly hammering at her shield.

“He seems nice,” Orihime commented, seemingly without a hint of irony. Rukia joined the fight to help back Ichigo up; this left Orihime on her own to babysit Ray.

“He isn't… normally like this,” Ray admitted sheepishly. “He's never… been possessive or… really even hurt me before. At least not on purpose. Not even when I pointed a gun at him.” Orihime put a finger to her lip and thought for a second.

“So when he says that only he is allowed to kill you,” she reasoned, “what he actually means is that he was keeping anyone else from hurting you. You know, when people become hollows, their desires get twisted like that.” Orihime, of course, spoke from deep personal experience – both with her brother and with Ichigo himself. But Ray didn't know that; instead, she pushed herself up from the dirt and came to a sitting position. She stared out at Orihime, giving her a mournful look.

“You heard about us on tv, right?” she said quietly. “Once we ran away together, he didn’t kill as much, but he still took care of me. I don't care what happens to me, I just want Zack to be okay. I don't want him to be dragged to Hell.”

“But do you want him to have to live on without you?” she asked pointedly. “Once he eats you, he'll really regret it. And he'll be all alone. I can't guarantee he won't go to Hell. He might go on to Soul Society when they cleanse him. But if he eats you now, there’s no chance of him ever being happy about it.” Ray stared out at Orihime, seeming to absorb her words. Before she could answer, though, the hollow’s shriek broke their conversation off.

Rukia had her feet firmly planted on his back, sword impaling him from behind. He was pinned to the ground by Sode no Shirayuki, but still thrashing despite everything. Ichigo, on the other hand, stood before him, feet spread apart, braced to deliver the killing blow. As Orihime watched, she could feel Ray trying to escape her shield; even though the monster was defeated, he was still calling for Ray. Then, in one clean swipe, Ichigo slashed straight through his mask, snapping the bone in two.

“Zack! _Zack!!!_ ”

Seeing as there was nothing else to be done, Orihime released her shield. He would fade soon and there was no sense in keeping Ray away from him now. And without fail, as soon as the shield was dropped, the blonde flash-stepped over to her previous position with her arms around the hollow's neck. Taking a closer look, a human face was visible now, covered in ragged bandages with mottled scars underneath, nearly hidden by shaggy black hair. The golden-brown eyes that landed on Ray were mismatched and full of sorrow.

_“Dammit,”_ he hissed, a small smile tugging at his lips. _“I broke my promise again, didn't I? Hey, Ray – at least lemme see a smile this time.”_ Her face was a tear-stained mess, but it was obvious she was at least trying to oblige him. It clearly didn't work, though; her normally blank expression attempting a caricature of a smile was just as unnatural as she always was. But her earnestness, at least, showed genuine emotion.

_“You still suck.”_

So she gave up and instead buried her face into his neck again, sobbing uncontrollably. For his part, Foster raised his right hand in an attempt to console his partner-in-crime, smoothing her hair over her back.

_“Good girl.”_

And then he faded away, disintegrating into black flecks of spirit particles and floating away on the wind. No gates to Hell opened, no demons sprang up around them to snatch Foster's soul. All was quiet except for the blonde's sobs. Ray's arms slipped closed around nothing.

* * *

A year passed.

One particularly brisk Sunday morning in April, Ichigo was awakened in his new apartment from the feeling of having a small Soul Reaper hop onto his legs. Having graduated from university (thankfully without scoring too badly on that one particular mid-term), he was now a functional adult, with a job and a place of his own. Of course, that didn't stop Rukia from barging in uninvited.

“Dammit, Rukia,” he groaned, sitting up to rub his eyes clear of sleep. “You're gonna get an eyefull one of these days! Develop some personal boundaries! _Damn_!” Fortunately, he was in boxers and a tank top, so he didn't have to worry about being indecent this time. But considering the fact that he had a wife now, the last thing he wanted was Rukia barging in on anything more personal than a handshake.

“You should already be up by now anyway,” she replied happily, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Ino-- Orihime-san already is.” This information was both unsurprising, since she wasn't asleep beside him anymore, and also did nothing to make him feel better about being woken up early on a Sunday. Ichigo glared, but didn't do anything worse.

“She does housework this time of the week,” he weakly defended himself. “Anyway, aren't you supposed to stay in Soul Society now?” And at that, Rukia was on the defensive. She shielded her rounded belly with one hand and gave Ichigo a petulant scowl.

“I'm not that far along,” she protested. “Besides, I'm pregnant, not sick! I can still go through the senkaimon if I want!”

“You're almost ready to pop,” Ichigo deadpanned. Any extra weight on someone as small as Rukia was bound to look odd, but she currently had the gait and girth of a particularly well-fed penguin. She clearly didn't appreciate Ichigo's observational skills, though.

“I'm only seven months,” she fussed, sticking her tongue out. “Besides, I had something I wanted to show you.” And with that, the conversation shifted as Rukia pulled a small photo from inside her shihakushou. Ichigo slumped forward, elbows resting against his knees, and stretched a hand out to take it.

“Remember that one hollow from last year?” Rukia said expectantly. Ichigo gave her an incredulous look.

“There were _many_ hollows last year, Rukia,” he drawled. “You're gonna have to be more specific.” She was unfazed by his sarcasm.

“The serial killer,” she replied, pointing to the photo. “Foster. The one with the blonde Soul Reaper. Gardner-san.” The image of the creepy blonde girl flashed through Ichigo's mind. Yes, he remembered them; how could he forget those cold, dead eyes? Then he looked down at his hand. There she was in the photograph, staring back up at him.

Except she wasn't alone.

The girl in the photo was definitely the same one Ichigo had met last year, still in her shihakushou, medic bag and all. But now she had a tall, thin man by her side. He wore the ratty kimono customary of Rukongai, and had even managed to find a brown hood from somewhere to cover most of his face. But underneath it, Ichigo could still see shaggy black hair and even some bandages. He'd even found a giant scythe somewhere and had it swung across his shoulders.

“I'll be damned,” he whistled. Rukia bounced on the edge of the bed with excitement.

“Captain Isane had her on light duty for a while after the incident,” Rukia explained. “I didn't turn her in, but the Captain was concerned for her mental health. But after about six months, she disappeared. We just got that back from one of the higher districts.” Ichigo looked up from the photo to see Rukia grinning mischievously.

“So she ran out to go look for him?” he asked. To his surprise, Rukia shook her head.

“From all accounts, it looks like _he_ came for _her_ ,” she said, a note of triumph in her voice. Ichigo sputtered.

“Rukia, you're a Vice Captain now!” Ichigo squawked. “Aren't you supposed to keep intruders out?!” Ichigo couldn't help but be a bit indignant at the amount of resistance he'd encountered when _he_ stormed the Seireitei to keep Rukia from being executed. Then again, the circumstances were certainly different, as Rukia's delighted demeanor suggested.

“Captain Isane only realized Gardner-san was gone the next day,” she said with a shrug. “The window of her room was damaged from the outside, so it was pretty obvious what had happened. They looked for her, but by then the trail had gone cold.” Ichigo looked back down at the picture again. Even though he remembered the cold stare of the blonde Soul Reaper, there was a faint smile on her face in the photo.

“Pretty obvious she doesn't want to be found now.”

* * *

The sun was starting to set in District 67, slanting golden rays across the rickety shacks set in uneven rows. The days were slightly longer at this point in the year, but most of the souls this far into Rukongai couldn't have cared less. These souls eked out their ‘livings' mostly around a half-dry well, frequently stealing what little belongings they had back and forth between each other. Largely abandoned by the Seireitei, the only disturbances here were caused by the residents and the occasional hollow.

Even in this kind of blighted landscape, one shack stood out among the rest. It wasn't in any better shape than the others; the roof leaked and the windows had no glass. It was cold in winter and hot in summer. Grass grew through the floorboards and there was barely any furniture. But the flower beds outside bloomed with phlox and hyacinth and sprouts of tomatoes and peppers were already started in another box closer to the door. And since none of the other spirits in the area had any spiritual energy, they wouldn't bother to steal the crops as they matured.

Inside, the house's inhabitant sat curled in a wooden chair, humming as she sewed. Strands of blonde hair fell across her face as she finished mending the tattered sleeve of a well-worn kimono and set it aside. Digging through her sewing box, she found the project she was nearly done with: a pair of stuffed dolls. With a tender look, she picked up the last few stitches she needed to finish up the small blonde doll’s outfit. Her match, a black-haired boy doll in a brown jacket, had been finished months ago.

Before she could get very many stitches in, though, the sound of heavy boots resounded throughout the small shack. Looking up from her sewing, she saw the man who had just entered. His tattered yukata came to rest just above his thighs; he hadn't even bothered to tie it closed. Instead, he wore it like a jacket over a rough brown shirt with a hood, with stained pants covering his lower body – he always said he felt naked without them. Tall and wiry, the bandaged man gave her a crooked smile from underneath his shaggy black hair.

“Oi, Ray! I'm home!”

Ray gave him a rare, warm smile, setting the pair of dolls in her lap. She had just finished sewing them together at the hands.

“Welcome home, Zack.”


End file.
